Less Wise and More Dangerous
by Pilingil
Summary: "The Wood-elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They are less wise and more dangerous." Harsh circumstances and relentless foes have forged the Mirkwood Elves into some of the most deadly beings in Middle-earth and have given them a single mission: survive. This is their story, from the start of the Third Age through The Hobbit. Book One of the Of Story and Song trilogy.
1. King of the Greenwood

**A/N: Hi everyone! Before I begin, I'd like to take a moment to explain where this story is going. This is Book One of a trilogy which I have collectively entitled "Of Story and Song," a reference to the last line of The Silmarillion. The idea for this story began a little over two years ago, around when the Desolation of Smaug came out, and at the time was little more than The Lord of the Rings with a few twists I added in, which developed into what is now Book Two (don't worry, it covers a lot more than just The Lord of the Rings). Eventually, I developed the idea for a sequel, which became Book Three, and Book One developed out of a single chapter in Book Two.**

 **This story will be set in neither the "book universe" nor the "movie universe;" instead, I decided to blend the best of both worlds to create a "hybrid universe." The overall timeline and plot will follow the books more closely, but the details of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings will generally stick closer to the movies (with a significant number of exceptions).**

 **Because I am writing all three books simultaneously, there may be significant gaps between chapters, and I apologize for that in advance. To compensate, I may post Books One and Two simultaneously, since they don't overlap for some time. Book Two will be called "When the Wise Falter."**

 **"Less Wise and More Dangerous" will tell the story of the Wood-elves of Mirkwood, beginning at the beginning of the Third Age in the aftermath of the War of the Last Alliance and ending in the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies. Since Professor Tolkien told us little of the Wood-elves' history in detail, I took the opportunity to explore their history in depth.**

 **NB: I have provided translatons for the names of characters listed as "Dramatis Personae." Gandalf, Thorin, Fili, and Kili come from Norse mythology; Bard and Bilbo come from Old English, and the rest are Sindarin or Quenya (Tolkien's Elvish languages). There is one exception, Galion, for which I have not found a suitable translation.**

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 **Disclaimer: The Silmarilion, The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and related works belong to J. R. R. Tolkien's estate. I do not own them, nor do I claim to. If I did, there would be a twelve-part movie adaptation of The Silmarillion.**

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Less Wise and More Dangerous

 _Of Story and Song, Book One_

The chronicle of the Wood-elves of Mirkwood, from the beginning of the Third Age to the days preceding the War of the Ring.

"The Wood-elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They are less wise, and more dangerous." -Beorn

Dramatis Personae:

Thranduil (Vigorous spring)- Elvenking of the Woodland Realm, husband of Elorneth, and father of Legolas

Elorneth (Star tree)- Queen of the Woodland Realm, wife of Thranduil, and mother of Legolas

Belcuil (Strong life)- Captain of the Palace Guard of the Woodland Realm

Galion- butler of Thranduil

Boron (Loyal)- warrior of the Woodland Realm and son of Belcuil

Celegil (Agile star)- Captain of the Border Guard of the Woodland Realm

Legolas (Green leaf)- Prince of the Woodland Realm and son of Thranduil and Elorneth

Malrin (Lady crowned with gold)- ranger of the Woodland Realm

Gandalf (Wand Elf)- the Grey Wizard

Glorfindel (Golden-haired)- Elf of Rivendell, formerly of Gondolin

Elros (Star foam)- guard of the Woodland Realm

Amathim (Steadfast shield)- ranger of the Woodland Realm

Thalion (Dauntless)- ranger of the Woodland Realm

Raniel (Daughter of a wanderer)- ranger of the Woodland Realm

Feren (Beech tree)- warrior of the Woodland Realm and herald of Thranduil

Cuon (Bow)- ranger of the Woodland Realm

Tauriel (Daughter of the forest)- ranger of the Woodland Realm

Thorin (Darer)- Crown Prince of Erebor

Fili (Seer)- Prince of Erebor, nephew of Thorin, and brother of Kili

Kili (Wedge)- Prince of Erebor, nephew of Thorin, and brother of Fili

Bard (Poet)- Man of Lake-town and descendant of Girion Lord of Dale

Bilbo Baggins (small sword; bag)- Hobbit of the Shire

Halbarad (Tall tower)- ranger of the North

Aragorn (Kingly Valor)- ranger of the North and son of Arathorn

 **Part One: The Darkening of the Forest**

Chapter 1: King of the Greenwood

 _TA 1- 3075 years ago_

For the first time in many years, Thranduil Oropherion felt some semblance of happiness. Alongside the High Elves of the West and the human exiles from Numenor, he and his people had fought a war against the Dark Lord Sauron in Mordor for the past eight years. That war had cost him two thirds of his people, his father King Oropher, and the relatively peaceful life of a Prince. Now, though, none of that seemed to matter as the borders of Greenwood the Great, his home, came into view. Eight years was a very short period of time for an Elf, but the grief, despair, and darkness he had witnessed made it seem far longer.

Already Thranduil could hear horns blowing as he and what was left of his father's army approached the royal palace on Amon Lanc. He had sent messengers ahead weeks ago, so most of the Elves who had not gone to war were gathered outside to greet them and hear tidings from the South, but at that moment, he had eyes only for one.

Elorneth, the Princess of the Woodland Realm and his wife, had practically flown out of the palace as soon as the horns were first sounded. She wore a gown of silver that complemented her blue eyes and yet did not seem to clash with her dark hair. There was a smile on her face and an air of joy about her, and Thranduil thought she had never looked more beautiful.

He smiled in return as he dismounted his elk and walked quickly to her. _"Gwannas lu and, meleth nin. (A long time has passed, my love),"_ he said quietly. Elorneth did not bother to respond; she only wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. He leaned into her embrace and kissed her back, neither wanting this moment to end nor caring that most of his kingdom was watching. Finally they parted. _"Mae g'ovannen, cund nin. (Well met, my prince),"_ she said. _"Aran. (King),"_ he responded. Realizing the implications of his statement, her expression changed to one of sadness. She put her hand on his shoulder, and after a moment said, "You should tell them."

Thranduil reluctantly released his wife and ascended the steps of the palace. When he reached the top, he turned to face the gathering and said in a loud voice, "Friends, kinsfolk, Elves of the Greenwood, hear now my words! I am the bearer of news both glad and fell." Instantly the courtyard quieted and all eyes turned to Oropher's son. He continued, "The war in the South is won. The Lord of Mordor is defeated, his Dark Tower thrown down, his servants scattered, and his armies all but destroyed." The Wood-elves were glad in their hearts at these tidings, but perceiving his weariness and solemn tone, they remained silent. "This victory has not come without a heavy price. Of the valiant warriors who marched to war, two thirds were lost. Among these was my father, King Oropher. It was his wish that I should rule after him; therefore I take upon myself his crown and the kingship of the Woodland Realm." Galion, the king's butler, disappeared inside the palace at a sign from Elorneth and soon returned with Belcuil, the Captain of the Guard, who held in his hands the crown of the king. Thranduil removed the prince's circlet and handed it to Galion, then took the crown from Belcuil and set it on his head. It was lighter than his circlet, and for that he was grateful, but it did not lighten the burden he now bore in his heart.

The next day, Thranduil stood on the balcony of the King's bedroom as the sun began its slow ascent into the sky. The sight of the bright green leaves of the forest served as a pleasant contrast to the blackened wastelands he had woken up to for the past eight years. He saw a bird fly to the south, and even as he turned his gaze to follow it the world seemed to grow darker. The sun grew dim as he looked off to the south and suddenly he did not see the sun's light but the light of the fires of Mordor. He fell to his knees as a great fear was awakened in his heart, and he heard an evil voice in his head, speaking in a tongue he had hoped never to hear again: " _Ash Nazg… (One Ring…)"_

"Thranduil!" He barely heard his wife's panicked voice through the fog of memory and darkness. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to remember where he was. The fog began to dissipate as Elorneth wrapped her arms around him. The light returned, and he opened his eyes, breathing heavily, all his energy drained from him. Elorneth knelt beside him and lowered his head into her lap. Neither of them moved for a long while.

"What happened?" the newly crowned queen finally asked. Thranduil hesitated before responding quietly, "We broke the armies of Mordor. The Dark Lord was thrown down, and his weapon taken from him. He was _destroyed_." He shuddered, the dark feeling not having fully faded from his mind. "But I do not feel like we have won. I fear Sauron may yet return." He looked up at Elorneth as he spoke, hoping that these words would not affect her as they did him.

But instead she smiled. "I do not think such an evil could arise in strength so soon after its fall. Do not fear the future yet, nor so much that you neglect the present." With that she rose and helped him to his feet, then led him back into their bedchamber. He had, after all, been gone eight years.


	2. A Necromancer

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Hopefully it won't be nearly so long until chapter 3.**

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Chapter 2: A Necromancer

 _TA 1050- 2026 years ago_

In the millennium that followed, the memory of the shadow of Mordor slowly faded in Thranduil's mind. He never forgot it, but in time the sense of unease that came over him when he gazed far into the south ceased to overwhelm him. At present, he was returning to the palace with a hunting party to prepare for the summer feast. He rode a great elk as his steed, a sign of high rank in the Greenwood reserved only for the Royal Family and the best of their warriors. At his right hand was Boron, son of Belcuil, who had been his closest friend since he and his father had first come to Mirkwood, and had fought at his side during the War of the Last Alliance. He was tall and strong, a master of both sword and spear, and had all but appointed himself Thranduil's personal guard after the death of Oropher. On his left was Feren, the King's herald. He was young and eager to serve, and he wore a large horn at his hip.

As they approached the palace, Thranduil looked up and saw that the sky was clouded with a white mist that covered the face of the sun. He would not have given it a second thought, but it had been bright and clear not a few minutes before. He held up his hand, and the riders ground to a halt. "What is it, my lord?" Feren asked after a moment. Thranduil did not respond. Within a minute after they had stopped, the mist had descended and began to envelop the towers of the palace like a fog. Almost immediately cries of pain could be heard from the palace, and soon the mist had reached Thranduil's company. As soon as it came near them they felt a bitter cold like nothing they had ever felt before. Elves were not normally sensitive to cold like mortals were, but this was a searing cold that stole away their strength. Their steeds collapsed almost immediately, the shock leaving them barely strong enough to breathe. Some of the company were pinned beneath their horses.

"Are you hurt, my lord?" asked Boron, as he moved to help the king up from the ground. Before Thranduil could respond, they heard a hissing sound from behind them. Several giant spiders, the likes of which they had never seen, emerged from the trees. Before they could react, the elves who were still trapped beneath their steeds were silenced by bites or venomous stings. Feren blew a ringing blast from his horn as Thranduil and Boron drew their swords and slashed at the spider closest to them. The blades struck the creature's armor, but did not penetrate it.

They were outnumbered against unfamiliar foes. Thranduil knew they could not win this fight here. "Back to the palace!" he shouted. "Go!" The trio turned and ran toward the gates, but when they came closer, they saw dozens of spiders scaling the walls, and the sound of hundreds more in the distance, but coming ever nearer. The Palace Guard was struggling to hold them back. The mist had weakened them and left them easy targets for the spiders.

"There are too many, my lord," said Boron. "We must retreat."

Thranduil did not like the idea of giving up so easily, but the lives of his people were far more important than selfish pride. "Feren, sound the call for retreat," he said. "Gather everyone you can and make for the northern settlements. Boron, help me find Elorneth and get her out." Feren's horn sounded again as Boron and Thranduil raced into the palace. They leaped on the backs of the spiders, stabbing at their eyes when they could, but their weapons were otherwise little use against them. At last they reached the top of the King's Tower. Belcuil stood in the doorway, valiantly attempting to hold a spider at bay with his shield. Boron hurled his sword at the spider, but it glanced harmlessly off of its shell. The spider turned toward them with a hiss, and Thranduil thrust his sword into its mouth, killing it. They rushed into the King's bedroom and saw Elorneth standing behind Belcuil, surrounded by the bodies of two spiders and several guards. Their armor had been as much use against their foes as their swords. Elorneth ran into Thranduil's arms. "Thranduil, what is happening?" she asked. "Where did they come from?"

"I do not know," he replied, "But there is no time for that now. We must go, now."

There was a loud hissing sound from the staircase outside the room. "We cannot go back the way we came," said Boron. "How are we going to get out?"

Thranduil hadn't thought of an escape route before entering the palace, but Belcuil seized a bow from a fallen guard and took an arrow from his quiver. He quickly tied one end of a rope to the shaft and the other to the bow, then walked to the window. He took careful aim and fired the arrow into a thick branch of a strong tree that towered over the palace walls. He pulled the rope taught. "This way," he said.

"One of us will have to stay and hold the rope," Thranduil said. "We cannot all escape this way."

"I know," the captain replied. The gravity and implication of his statement was lost on no one. "No," Boron said. "I will not leave you here."

"You must," Belcuil replied. "The choice is mine, and mine alone." Boron was about to argue when they heard the hissing again, closer now.

"Elorneth will go first," he said. Boron helped the queen onto the rope while Thranduil closed what was left of the chamber door and moved a bookcase in front of it. When Elorneth reached the tree, Thranduil said decisively, "Boron."

Boron turned to his father, his eyes mired with tears. Belcuil kissed his son's brow and said softly, " _Galo Anor erin rad gin, ion nin. (May the Sun shine upon your path, my son.)_ "

Boron climbed onto the rope and soon reached the tree. Thranduil turned to his captain. He opened his mouth to speak when something slammed against the bookcase. "Go, my lord," said Belcuil. "So long as you survive this day, my life will not have been given in vain."

Thranduil placed a hand on Belciul's shoulder. There were no words befitting the captain's sacrifice. Belcuil smiled grimly. After a moment, Thranduil climbed onto the rope. He was halfway across when he heard the bookcase come crashing down. A moment later the rope went slack.

He fell into a courtyard just shy of the outer wall. He looked up and saw several spiders moving towards him. He got up and ran to a nearby staircase leading to the top of the wall. When he reached the top, he heard a noise behind him, but it was not a spider. He turned and saw, against the white of the fading mist, a shadow dark and formless, barely visible even to Elvish eyes. It spoke in a voice too faint for him to make out the words, but loud enough to tell it was an evil tongue he had not heard for a thousand years. Another fainter dark shape appeared near the first, and then another. These were in the shapes of men, with crowns upon their heads.

"Thranduil!"

His wife's voice forced the king to tear his gaze from the dark shapes and look up to the tree branch, which was now within reach. Boron's hand was extended toward him. Thranduil took it and climbed onto the branch. "We can stay no longer," he said. "Come!"

They leaped through the trees toward the front of the palace and saw that Feren and the others who managed to escape had already gone. They continued northward as fast as they were able, and were surprised to realize that they were not pursued. A few hours later, they reached the nearest settlement, whither the others had fled. Still no spiders came, and soon they were reasonably sure that they would last the night.

"What was it you were looking at from the wall?" Elorneth asked Thranduil as the sun began to set. "I saw a shadow against the mist, but nothing more."

"That was no mere shadow," the king responded gravely. "It was a necromancer."

After the Elves fled the palace, the Necromancer began his work. He uttered many evil spells, and soon more crowned shades appeared with him, and they were nine in number. Soon the spells extended to the trees, and darkened them; green leaves turned to red, brown wood turned to black, and trunks, branches, and roots twisted about each other. The waters of the forest streams turned black and became heavy with enchantment. The spiders multiplied and spread, and Orcs and Wargs came and joined them. As the forest darkened, so also did the palace. A great pit was dug around the fortress, and a bridge to the front gate was built. More pits were dug in the courtyards inside the palace walls. The very stones of the palace were twisted, and its Elvish beauty was forgotten. Here the Necromancer made his abode, and he gave the fortress the name by which it is now remembered: Dol Guldur, the Hill of Sorcery.


End file.
